He held her more tightly to his breast as she called him this, and she uttered a low sigh of relief, for it was as though he told her of his trust. It gave her strength to proceed, and she went on:
“My sister quarrelled with me, and said such bitter things that I could not bear them. She brought up the scene upon that terrible night of which you were a witness.”
“Let it be buried with the past,” said Lord Henry gravely. “It should never have been revived, and I see now but too plainly that I was to blame in accepting the invitation.”
“Never accept one again; I could not bear it. Clotilde’s path and mine must be separate through life. I could not meet her now.”
“Are you not too hard upon your sister?”
“Hard?” cried Marie. “Oh no! You do not know all,” she was about to say, but she refrained, and went on: “Clotilde has altered since her marriage. I think we should be happier apart. Help me in this, dear husband. It would be better so.”
He raised her face, and gazed tenderly into her wild eyes, as he said:
“Your happiness is my care, Marie, my child. I promised to try and make your home one of rest and peace. Ask me what you will, and it shall be done.”
“Then you will keep our lives separate from my sister’s,” she cried eagerly.
“If you asked me my wishes on the subject,” he said quietly, and he smiled as he spoke. “I should gladly cut myself off from all connection with Mr Elbraham and his wife. But we have our social duties to perform, Marie, even if they are against our taste.”